


Bethany Post  Road

by Annie17851



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie17851/pseuds/Annie17851
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scully has amnesia, and is possibly in danger; who better to guard her than Our Man</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bethany Post  Road

**Author's Note:**

> An old X-Files fanfic.

There was no question of her safety, she would be well protected. The worst thing about it all, as far as Walter Skinner was concerned, was that she didn't even know who he was. 

This thought was gnawing away impolitely in the back of his mind while he maneuvered the rented car expertly through the holiday weekend traffic. 

Labor Day weekend, the last summer holiday, teeming with frantic people who wanted that last shot at the beach, last barbecue, last lazy Monday off work. 

He spared a glance quickly from the mad rush of metal and humanity surrounding him to look into the rear view mirror at Scully. 

She was sitting quietly next to Agent Rogers in the back seat, watching the highway and the far off green that barricaded them from a view of the ocean. Just out there, somewhere, was the Maryland coastline. 

Agent Bailey was next to Skinner in the front seat, asleep, which was okay, because he would be on the midnight to 8 am watch tonight. Skinner definitely didn't want him falling asleep on the job. 

He knew the exit he wanted was coming up, so he crept his way lane by lane over to his far left. An exit that would take them to the ocean, to the safe house on the beach on Bethany Post Road. 

Terrible thing, amnesia, brought on by all sorts of things: head injuries, trauma, and being almost blown up in a bank. Stealing all or most of your memories, stealing your friendships and loves. Or friendships that could easily become loves. He replayed the scene endlessly in his mind, despite all his efforts to stop it. 

Mulder bursting into his office, frantic at the news he had just heard from another agent. 

First Corporate Bank was involved in a hostage situation. And Scully was in the bank, there only by the worst coincidence. Negotiations had not been going well right from the start. Blocks of C4 had been placed strategically around the interior of the building. The place had been surrounded by D.C. police and quickly-forming swarms of federal agents. 

It hadn't looked like there was any escape route for the bank robbers; if they had one, it had gone terribly wrong. They were now threatening to come out shooting and blow the C4 on their way through the exits. 

Skinner tried futilely to block out the sight, masked lunatic gunmen streaming from the building, six of them, automatic weapons blazing, spraying death. The hostages, Scully among them, helping some of the slower people, were all running out of the bank behind the gunmen, probably thinking they could perhaps be missed by a bullet, but not by the building collapsing around them. 

Scully tackled the first gunman she could get to. In the ensuing tussle, she had pulled down his mask and had gotten a good look. Just as he was about to shoot her, the bank blew, the force of the blast knocking everyone to the ground. 

Five of the gunmen were captured in the subsequent confusion. The sixth, the one Scully had seen and could identify, had escaped. 

There had been hours of debriefing; people had been shot and killed; more had been killed in the explosion. There would be an intensive manhunt for the lone escapee. Unfortunately, the one person who knew what he looked like had amnesia, brought on by cranial trauma from hitting her head on the sidewalk when the building exploded. She was no help to them at this point, and no help to herself either. She didn't know if she had identified herself to the man as a federal agent, but she most probably had when she tackled him. Now he knew what she looked like, and where to find her. 

So, Skinner and two other agents were talking Scully to a safe house. Only the three of them and Mulder knew which house they were using, and Mulder was staying behind in D.C. to take part in the investigation. Scully would be under constant guard, which had been explained to her. She couldn't remember any of it, didn't know she was an agent, and only went along with the plan because of the intensity of the two men, this driver and the so called partner, when they both took her into a room and tried to tell her what had happened. If her memory came back, (when, Walter, he berated himself mentally) she could try to identify the gunman from any suspects they may have come up with in the meantime. 

Bailey had the midnight shift, Rogers had the 8 am to 4 pm shift, and Skinner would be on duty from 4 pm to midnight. Not that he wouldn't be keeping an eye on her every waking second anyway. 

She rode quietly in the back seat, jumbled up in her own thoughts. She understood this was ' for her own good.' Knew it was meant to keep her safe. She was so frustrated that she couldn't even remember her name, except as it was told to her, that she could just jump out of this car and scream her lungs out. And what was it with this one, this driver? It was pretty obvious the other two were barely acquaintances, but Agent Mulder and AD Skinner were way closer to her. If only she could go to sleep and somehow have her memory returned to her when she awoke, like none of this had ever happened. She was not in control. She hated it. 

When they finally came into sight of the beach house, it calmed her considerably. It was pretty well isolated, away from public beaches, and it was really nice. A big old white house, with a wide porch all the way around three sides of it, and just back far enough from the ocean that it was safe from the tide. The sand was almost white, and they crested a small hill covered with tall grass that hid the house from being seen from the dirt road. 

It was beautiful. It was late afternoon now, and the setting sun behind them had cast long shadows across the beach, and was highlighting the caps of the small breaking waves. It was very warm, and the ocean was really calm. Skinner wished he could be on vacation. Right here with Scully. 

They pulled to a halt in front of the house, and the men unloaded the trunk, Skinner hustling Scully into the house as quickly as possible. The grounds would have to be inspected minutely, the guard set, not to be interrupted. 

Scully protested mildly at being put inside so abruptly. She just wanted to take her shoes off and walk on the beach. 

"You know I can't let you do that," Skinner told her, wanting nothing more that to allow it, and join her. "Maybe tomorrow, or the day after, when we're sure everything is totally secure. Right now I am sending Agent Rogers back to that small town we passed through to get groceries for us. I thought we could all take turns cooking, that is if.." 

She finished the sentence for him. "If I can remember how, right, Sir?" 

She saw him redden slightly. Oddly, the "Sir" coming from her felt good as she spoke it. Actually, it felt familiar. She must have said it a lot. 

He cleared his throat. "Yes, well, in the meantime, let me show you which bedroom is yours." 

He turned around, picked up her suitcase, and headed for the stairs, not even looking to see if she was behind him. A man used to being obeyed without question. A man who knew he didn't have to double check on any of his orders. Intriguing. 

He led her upstairs and toward the front of the house, which faced the beach. 

It was a big, bright room, and her two windows looked right out at the ocean. She smiled, grateful for this little pleasure, at least she would be able to open the windows and smell the ocean while he decided if she could go out or not. 

"Thank you," she said with a small smile, turning away from him then to go to the window. The remnants of late afternoon sun sparkled on the sea, framing her in the window, and his heart stopped. He thought he had never seen anything so beautiful. He hoped she got her memory back soon. 

"You get this room because the only windows face the ocean. If anyone wants to take a shot at you through the window, they'd have to be on the beach, where we can see them. For all practical purposes, this was the best room for you." 

She turned from the window then, to face him again, smile gone. "For all practical purposes, then, I'll just stay in my room. Would you ask Agent Rogers to pick up some paperbacks and magazines for me while he is in town? It doesn't matter what kind, I guess, as I have no idea what I like." 

She was angry, he knew, and felt helpless and frustrated. The FBI psychiatrist had warned him about this. Inadequacy was not a feeling Dana Scully would welcome, amnesia or not. He softened his tone then. "Agent Scully, no one, least of all me, is enjoying this situation. Until Agent Mulder calls me with some kind of news about the escapee's whereabouts, you will be under guard. Hopefully, it won't be long. Anyway, it is after four, and you are on my watch now. When Rogers gets back from town, I'll grill some steaks." He almost smiled, and she thought it would probably crack his face if he did. "I hope you'll join us for dinner at least." 

He didn't wait for an answer, just left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. She sighed resignedly, and began to put the clothes from her suitcase, which her partner had apparently packed for her, into drawers. 

Rogers went to town with a long list and his government credit card. He bought, per AD Skinner's orders, as wide a variety of magazines and books as he could. Before he headed back to the beach house, he had just one short call to make. 

Skinner didn't let her out at all the next day, and she was going stir crazy. She perused the magazines, played some chess with Agent Bailey, and watched a couple of movies from the satellite dish. AD Skinner did paperwork in his down time, and kept an eye on her consistently. She caught him watching her so many times that she finally gave up trying, giving in to the fact that this was the way it was going to be for now. 

Also, he had the bedroom right next to hers, and while Agent Bailey cruised from room to room downstairs, watching out windows all night, she lay awake, listening to tossing and turning sounds from the next room. She wondered if he ever truly slept. 

He never truly slept. He had spent too many nights in Vietnam unable to sleep, and his job as Assistant Director and Mulder/Scully buffer with the rest of the Bureau allowed little peaceful sleep either. And that was without taking into consideration the Consortium, Krycek and all of that. What really kept him awake was the woman in the next room. He thought she wasn't sleeping well, either, and who could blame her. He tried to put himself in her place, but that was difficult. All he knew was that he wanted her to remember him. Even if the relationship he shared with her was a working one, he still wanted it back. 

He wanted a lot more, truth be told. He wanted to walk into the bedroom next door and climb into bed next to her. He would have to settle for being the guard dog. 

After very careful consideration, Skinner decided on the third day that she could go out on the beach. But only on his shift, as he insisted on being right alongside her. He sent the other two agents out as soon as he started his 4 pm watch, and told them to scout around carefully. They reported nothing suspicious, so he relented. 

She walked on the beach, back and forth in her bare feet, walking into the waves and back away from them again, smiling. Skinner divided his time jealously between watching her and scanning the house and Bethany Post Road behind it. Finally Rogers called down from the big porch that dinner was ready, and they walked reluctantly back. 

"Can we come back out later, when the moon comes out? It's only at quarter, but I still want to watch it over the ocean." 

Skinner grunted something noncommittal, which she knew she could turn into a yes. 

Now here, AD Skinner thought to himself, was a situation that could be very dangerous. Watching Dana Scully walk around the beach in the moonlight, obviously delighted with the night and the ocean, was about enough to drive him mad. The only thing that kept him from grabbing her and playing From Here To Eternity was the fact that he had to keep an eye out for trouble. It was so peaceful and quiet, it would be almost impossible for anyone to sneak up on them. The only other house they could see, pretty far off, was dark. Still, he kept tearing his eyes away from her to scan the house and the beach. It was the moonlight on her skin and her hair that was making him crazy. She picked up some shells, and then tossed them into the ocean, lifting her face to catch the salty breeze, wonderful eyes reflecting the moonlight. 

He couldn't ever remember wanting one woman so much. 

Scully may have had amnesia, but she wasn't stupid. There was definitely something up with this guy. He watched her more than the beach and house, although she could see he was trying to be as alert as possible to any imminent danger. She didn't personally think there was any after all, how could this gunman, whoever he was, possibly know where she was. She wanted to forget all her troubling thoughts. Maybe she could have some fun after all. 

"Sir," she began, distracting him from an intense scrutiny of the tall grass at the top of the slope leading down to the beach. 

He looked at her quickly, his gaze darkly penetrating. "Ready to go in?" he questioned, uneasy with being out here, in the dark. 

"Almost," she replied. "Actually, I wanted to ask you a few questions. If you don't mind, that is." 

"Ask away. They said I should tell you anything you wanted to know." 

"Agent Mulder, now tell me about him. Are we close, Fox and I?" 

He smiled unexpectedly, changing him suddenly, giving her a glimpse of the man inside, brief though it was. 

"Only about 2 people are allowed to call Agent Mulder Fox, and you are not one of them. Neither am I, as a matter of fact. You call him Mulder; he calls you Scully." 

She looked a bit dubious. "And we've been partners for years? Don't we like each other?" 

This question seemed to bother him, and he hesitated for just a heartbeat. " You trust each other with your lives." 

"Is he in love with me? Am I in love with him?" 

Skinner made a pretense of checking out the grassy slope once more. 

"Well, I really can't answer that one," he told her truthfully. "You seem to spend almost all of your time together, but I don't know for sure WHAT kind of relationship you have with him, when you get right down to it." 

"And what about us?" 

His dark eyes gave him away. She didn't think she saw 'Boss" in them just then. 

"What about us?" He shrugged, trying to look indifferent, but it was too late. "There is no us. You are an agent under my supervision." 

She might have questioned him further, but the sudden, sharp sound made her turn toward the house, probably saved her life, as the bullet fired from there whizzed past her ear, instead of finding its' mark. The crack of a gun being fired, deafening in that calm, dark place. 

Coming from inside the house. 

In one fluid movement, Skinner pulled his gun and pushed her to the ground, which turned out to be a mistake. The second bullet, aimed a bit lower, burned its' way right through her, just to the left of her right shoulder. Skinner, on the way down to join her to provide cover, was firing back at the house when he heard her breathy grunt of pain, felt her go limp. He followed her down to the wet sand, trying to see house and victim at the same time. He fired another shot, just to make sure they knew in there that he had a good supply of ammo. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, the word just kept rolling through his head. How the hell did someone get in the house? Of course, he knew no one had gotten into the house, it had to be someone who was already there. 

"Scully," he said frantically, laying beside her and trying to find a wound, he knew she had been hit somewhere, and it was obvious in a second. Blood was pouring from her, the waves were coming in and washing over her, receding red into the ocean. He examined her shoulder hurriedly, couldn't find an exit wound. Not good. She was bleeding a lot, which almost panicked him. 

He was scared to death. Not Scully. Not on his watch, please God. The mantra in his head now changed from expletive to prayer. He glanced at the house, mind racing, trying to plan something, anything. No one coming from the house, not yet anyway, and whichever prick had done the shooting must be waiting to see if he had actually hit either one of them. Skinner had ammo, but only about 30 rounds; the clip in his gun and the extra one in his holster. He had his cell phone, and he could call for help, but he had to get them out of shooting range as quickly as possible. 

Scully was moaning lightly, trying to roll over, get away. 

"Scully, wait," he cautioned her. "Just a second. We have to crawl, we can't get up. We have to make it over to the other house, down there." He nodded in the general direction, readying himself to crawl and drag her along with him. There was no cover, and he would have to use his bullets just enough to keep the sniper under cover in the house, make sure they had time to get there and call for help. "Can you make it, can you do it?" 

There were tears in her eyes from pain, but she nodded briefly, turning to try to crawl, survival instinct taking over. 

Skinner shot at the house again, and they began to crawl, Skinner pulling her along the wet sand, still praying in his mind, knowing once they got to the house and the little waves weren't washing her off anymore there would be an awful lot of blood to deal with if he couldn't staunch the flow. 

She was gasping with the effort, and he knew he'd get her to safety even if he had to stand up and carry her at a run, dodging bullets all the way. 

Nothing he hadn't done before, although he had jungle for cover back then, now there was nothing but the night. At least the moon was only at a quarter, but even that gave too much light to suit Skinner. 

Scully was breathing raggedly now, and they were both covered with her blood. Fuck it, they were going to get picked off any second now anyway. Skinner stood up, picked her up unceremoniously from the wet, red soaked sand and hauled ass toward the empty neighboring house. 

Bullets blazed their way into the sand around him, but he was just fast enough to make it without getting himself shot in the process. He went right around to the back door, away from the beach, and kicked it in forcefully, Scully moaning at the rough movement. He waited a precious second or two, trying to see in the dark, then made his way into the living room, trying not to trip over any furniture. He laid her down on the sofa, moving it around so he could watch out of a window facing the safe house in case someone came after them. At least they couldn't be seen here, in the dark. On the other hand, he was having a hard time seeing himself, willing his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. 

In between looking out the window and reaching for his cell phone, he ended up ripping her shirt right down the front, trying to find the wound. He used the pieces of shirt to wipe the blood from her shoulder until he could se the ragged hole in her flesh. 

Okay, pressure. He wadded the remains of the shirt up into a square and held it tightly over the wound, already dialing 911 on the cell phone one handed. Still, no one was coming from the house, and he thought they may have been trying to got out the back door over there and get away. 

After he explained to the emergency dispatcher, he called the nearest FBI office, whose number he had been sure to memorize. He checked Scully out one more time, quickly. She was still conscious, although her eyelids were fluttering. Her breathing was still ragged, and she was still bleeding seriously. 

"Scully," he said to her insistently. "Scully, wake up! You stay awake! Look at me. Come on, look at me, Scully! Help's coming, they'll be here any minute. Can you breathe?" 

She didn't reply, just moaned lightly, from the pressure he was putting on the wounded shoulder. 

"Answer me, Scully, that's an order! Can you breathe okay?" 

"Yes," she whispered, with difficulty, she was going to pass out, but at least it didn't look like the bullet had nicked a lung. 

"Don't you go anywhere! Don't you die on me!" 

"I can't- I can't stay awake, fuck that hurts!" 

Skinner spared a glance out the window once again, then leaned closer, put his face next to hers, close enough to feel the warm, desperate breath coming from her. 

"Listen," he whispered next to her cheek. "Just stay awake, just for a few minutes. You have to. I need to talk to you,. I need you to stay awake, and stay with me. Help is coming. Listen, I'm going to call Mulder and tell him to come right away." 

He spoke to Mulder briefly, explained the situation and that authorities both federal and medical were on the way. Mulder would get down there as soon as he could. 

He checked the wound one more time, still bleeding, although it might not have been as much. They were both covered in blood, nevertheless. 

"Okay, are you with me? Scully? Dana?" She was falling into unconsciousness, and he didn't want her to do that, had to know she was awake and not bleeding to death on him. He put even more pressure on the shoulder and she came awake with a gasp of pain. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You have to stay awake. Listen to me, Dana, stay awake. Please talk to me. They're coming, they'll be here any second, we'll go get you fixed up and then we can come back if you want and I'll let you out on the beach all day. Whatever you want. Just stay awake." 

God, there was just blood all over, it was the worst sight he could imagine. Not Scully, please God not Scully. 

"You never told me," she whispered weakly. 

"What did I never tell you?" he asked, thrown by the statement in the midst of this crisis. 

"About us," she replied, her voice fading away, eyes closing all the way. She was probably going into shock, and he couldn't leave the pressure off the wound to go and find something to cover her with. He leaned in even closer, trying to cover some of her with himself, getting even more blood on him, but he didn't care, it was only clothes, he could get more. He put his free arm around her, still trying to listen and watch for some kind of pursuit from the safe house. He, or they, must have simply fled, knowing Skinner would be able to call for back up. Idiots. 

"Scully, don't go," he told her softly, daring to kiss her face lightly. He finally heard the welcome sounds of sirens approaching, and laid his forehead on her chest in relief, heedless of the blood. 

 

Skinner hated hospitals. He especially hated them when any of his agents were in admittance. Especially since it was Scully. It was this intolerance of the situation that had him pacing angrily back and forth in the hallway outside of her emergency cubicle when Mulder showed up. He had managed to get a Bureau 'copter to fly him down, and he had gotten the briefing from the local authorities that Skinner had passed on, wanting instead to stay with his downed agent. 

"Sir," he heard Mulder's voice behind him, and whirled impatiently. 

"Did they find Rogers?" he demanded. 

"Yes, Sir, they did. Since he took off with the rental car, they just put out an APB for it, and they managed to catch him before he could get a different vehicle. In the meantime, he had apparently picked up his friend, Scully's perp from the bank, so they have both of them in custody now. He will, of course, be charged with the first degree murder of Agent Bailey and the attempted murder of Scully. And what's going on? How is she? Will she be all right?" 

Skinner sighed. "Yes, she will. Fortunately, it was into the meat of the shoulder. There was a lot of blood loss, and some tissue damage, but all in all they said it could have been a lot worse." 

"Good thing you were with her, Sir," Mulder said carefully, knowing what would come next. 

"Oh, yea, good thing. If I hadn't let her go out for a walk on the stupid beach this never would have happened! I dropped the ball." 

"And a very important ball, at that," Mulder agreed. "However, it would have happened anyway, and it was just lucky that you and she weren't both murdered in your beds." 

Skinner shook his head. "No matter what you say, it's my fault she's in there." 

He didn't get a chance to berate himself any further, as the doors to the ER suite opened suddenly and they were wheeling Scully out on a gurney, taking her to her assigned room. The doctor assured them that she would be fine, and from what he had seen in the examination room when they had stabilized and revived her, she was getting her memory back, as well. What trauma took, trauma was giving back. 

It was two long weeks later when Skinner found the piece of folded up paper on his desk. He had come from a meeting that afternoon, into his office, and just found it laying there, on the desk. When he picked it up and unfolded it, there were just three words written on the paper in neat, feminine handwriting. 

"Bethany Post Road" 

His brow furrowed in puzzlement. He was supposed to go there? Now? It would be dark by the time he got there anyway, but he knew the handwriting and so there was no question that he would be going. Immediately. 

It was dark when he finally got to the safe house, memories making him cringe inwardly, thinking how close he had come to never being able to see her again, Never speak to her, or hear her voice. Never get a chance to tell heranything. 

Scully was walking in her bare feet on the beach. There was a full moon now, and the sight was almost more than he could take. She heard him coming and turned to wait, not speaking until he was close enough for her to talk softly. 

"You never did tell me, and I want to know." 

Skinner's heart started to pound in his chest. "Tell you what?" he asked gruffly, although he knew exactly what she meant. 

"Tell me about us," she reminded him gently. "I asked you before, right here, and you never got to answer me properly." 

He looked a bit surprised at that, and she smiled beautifully, making his heart pound even harder. Something else was getting hard, too, something lower. This was probably not a good idea. 

He found the ability to speak calmly from somewhere, though he couldn't have said where. "I told you there was no us, then we were rudely interrupted." 

"You're surprised that I can remember that, since I had amnesia at the time. I don't know, the brain works in mysterious ways. I just want to know. Is there no us because you say so? Or are you afraid to ask? I am not an idiot, Sir, so please don't answer me like one." 

Skinner stepped closer to her, engulfed in her perfume, and the smell of the ocean. They were alone here, the house where they had taken shelter down the beach was dark, and the safe house was not in use at the moment. 

"There is no us because I really don't think you would want anything like that. It's inappropriate, I know how you are" 

She looked a but angry then. "You don't know jack about how I am! Why do you think I asked you then, that night we were here? I could see you looking at me, every time I turned around you were watching me. I heard you tossing and turning in that bedroom next to mine. I wanted to be there with you, and you should have the guts to say something if-" 

She never got to finish her sentence, Skinner simply leaned in and grabbed her by the back of the head, entwining his fingers in her fiery hair and pulling her face to his. He was about done with this wanting and waiting stuff; he was a grown man, and it was about time he acted like one. 

The kiss caught her by surprise; not because she never thought he'd kiss her, but because he did it a lot sooner than she anticipated. Scully remembered what she had seen in his eyes on the beach before the shots rang out. She remembered every word he had said to her when he was trying to keep her awake, and somewhere in her fogged mind, she remembered he had kissed her face, and she had been too weak and in too much pain to say anything. 

She wasn't in any pain at the moment, and she returned his kiss with more heat than he expected. Her hands went up around his shoulders and pulled him closer to her, crushing herself against him, body to body. 

Her breath was ragged again here on the beach, but for an entirely different reason. The incredible heat of him was driving her crazy, and she pulled her face away from him for just a second, she wanted to look into his eyes again, see the Boss disappear and find a lover. 

"Love me," she whispered to him, and the words sent him soaring, made his head spin, made his hard cock strain forcefully against his clothes. 

The clothes had to go. He started pulling hers off, kissing her again and not relinquishing her lips for even a second, while they struggled to be free of anything that could come between them. 

Skinner thought in the back of his head that this was what he had wanted to do when they were here before, and apparently, this is what Scully had wanted to do, too. They were on the sand by the time they got all the clothes out of the way, and he released her lips reluctantly, replacing them with the rest of her, nuzzling hungrily at her breasts, tasting every part of her. 

Scully thought she was insane herself. Here she was, almost the middle of the night, all alone on a dark beach, naked and fucking her boss. She was gasping, and if his cock was as good as it had looked, they were going to be here for a while. 

She reached down, she wanted to touch the velvet steel of him, groaned inwardly at the size of it, but pulled him up on top of her, wanted him to drive her relentlessly into the hard sand beneath her. The waves came up and caressed them, cool and startling, and still they wouldn't give up their spot on the beach, wouldn't move an inch until they had enough. 

"You really want this?" Skinner asked her quietly, kissing her face softly, letting some of his weight rest on her, just so she would know he was there. 

She definitely knew he was there. 

"I really want this," she told him. "I really want you, and now." 

He put his mouth on hers and kissed her again, deeply, while he pushed his cock inside slowly. She thought he would have her exploding with want any minute, he was going slowly and she wanted him in. She reached down as low as she could and grabbed his hips, pulling insistently. He needed no further urging. He pushed the rest of the way in, grinding against her, still kissing her, hands roaming everywhere they could reach. She gasped from the sheer size, loving it, delighting in being filled so completely. She was almost over the edge, and he teased a nipple with his fingers, pounding his cock into her, she came moaning into his mouth, driving him into intense spasming with her. 

He dropped his head on her chest then, trying to catch his breath, listening to her heart pound and then gradually drop down to a normal beat against his cheek. He finally raised his head to kiss her softly, a small wave washing over them, reminding them where they were. 

Scully closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the sand beneath her, the man above her, and the sounds and smell of the nighttime ocean. 

"Is this place for sale?" she asked curiously. 

Skinner picked his head up once more, amused. "No," he replied, "But I'll see what I can do."


End file.
